


Eternally Yours

by DarkKnightDan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Angst, Budding Relationship, Developing Relationship, F/F, Feels, First Kiss, First Relationship, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, I wanted an Emily Tracer fic, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lesbian Lena "Tracer" Oxton, More like character tragedy?, Not Really Character Death, Some Shenanigans, Tracer being a hero, bad times, eventually, possible happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9493907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkKnightDan/pseuds/DarkKnightDan
Summary: Disassociation, that's what Winston called it, when he managed to get me anchored. Said all my particles were being positively nutters, bouncing around time all Willy-nilly, but he could keep my anchored as long as I wore the accelerator. As long as I wore the accelerator, I could stay in the present.





	1. Blurry

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wanted to write a fic featuring Lena and Emily. I hope everyone enjoys this. Uh, this will probably get really feels-filled later on, so be ready for that.

In the heat of battle, with bullets flying all around me, everything moves slower. I can hear the bullets as they cleave through the air, whistling with the sound of an angry nest of hornets, disturbed by the pull of a trigger and let loose into the air. The whistling ends when the rounds slam into walls, creating loud cracks when metal meets stone. I only hope that metal does not meet flesh. 

Over the low wall, I think to myself seconds before hurting over the brick, before zipping ahead, leaving a trail of pale blue in my wake. The trail stretches from where my blink began, all the way to where it stopped only moments ago. My eyes aren't on that, though, instead focused straight ahead on the group of mercenaries who currently had their eyes on my friends. 

Another blink, and I'm at their sides. My dual pistols are up, and I'm blasting away to at least draw their attention away from my friends, who were currently pinned down in cover. The smell of burning plasma fills the air, and soon enough, enemies eyes fall on me instead of my friends. A quick blink, and I'm gone. 

The sounds of shots ring in my ears, as though the shots hit me, but they had only hit the afterglow of my movement, carrying their sound along in my wake. More gunfire follows, though it sounds less like the assault rifles that the Talon group were using, and more like Jack's trademark pulse rifle. 

I duck behind cover for a moment, and glance down at my wrist. The chronal accelerator's displayed shows me that a blink isn't possible at the moment, neither is a recall. I take a deep breath, and brace myself against the wall, readying my pistols. 

"Back to work." With that, I dive out of cover, toward an adjacent doorway, firing as I go. A few shots hit their mark, the others acting mostly as distraction. Between the two fronts of fire, the Talon mercenaries are without a place to go. I hit the ground, roll to avert the shock, and brace myself in the doorway.

"One more." I dive out again, and blink forward to put myself in a more opportune position to clean out the rest of the mercenaries that linger after the initial two pushes. I ready myself to shoot the nearest one as the world accelerates around me, blurring for a moment, and then, suddenly, everything goes white. 

Not white like, when you take a hard hit to the head, or when you get hit in the eyes by a bright light. No, more like the whole world was just suddenly consumed in light. I hit the ground, only there isn't a ground, just more of the featureless color. My gaze searches for something to anchor onto, something to indicate that this is reality, but it seems more like a dream. 

I look down at my chronal accelerator, whether, the place where it was supposed to be. Instead of the pale blue glow that indicates the machine is fully functioning, there's a black void, no indication that the device was working at all. 

After a moment in this featureless void, my head starts to spin. I try to push myself to my feet, but only fall right back to my knees, being pulled down by some sort of force that I can't see. Then, the pain comes.

It's like my entire body is trying to tear itself apart from the inside out, like being jabbed with a million needles all at the same time, all over my body. I've felt this pain before, I remember it, remember the fancy name Winston gave it. Disassociation, my molecules tearing themselves apart, scattering all across time within the blink of an eye. Accompanying the pain is an unholy sound, like fabric being torn, only much louder, and more violent. There's another sound, though it's muffled, it takes a moment for me to realize that it's the sound of me screaming in pain. All of that suddenly ceases, though.

There's a loud pop, and then everything goes black, before the world slowly fades into view. It isn't the world that I remember just leaving moments ago, but even that is growing fuzzy as I glance around the room. My room. 

My coat hangs on the door, put there upon returning from a late night stakeout just the night before. My glasses hang on the knob, my suit on the floor next to the unmade bed that I found myself on. My pistols sit, conspicuous, on the desk next to me. There's no evidence that they've been fired recently, much less only moments ago. Was that moments ago? I reach forward, and brush my fingers over the metal, it's cold as ice. No way they were just fired.

My chronal accelerator, I discover upon a quick glance down at my chest, is still glowing, and producing the gentle hum that it always does. My brows furrow, until my brain finally offers up the explanation the the situation. Nothing but a bad dream, it explained, nothing to worry about. With a sigh, I lean forward, and run my fingers down my face, pulling at the skin there as though to ensure it's still there.

"Just a bad dream..." I mutter to myself, hands falling to the folds in the blanket that had collected near my waist. "A bad dream, that's all." My fingers curl into the fabric, the sensation still not convincing me that this is reality, and my experience moments ago was a dream. I sit there for what must have been fifteen minutes, before standing, and casting the covers away.

"Just a bad dream." I repeat as I tread over to the window, directly across from me. It was still open from my return the night previous, the curtains billowing in the slight breeze that blew over London as the sun barely peeked over the horizon. The breeze kisses my face, and I sigh before leaning forward and putting my head against the sill. 

Something seems off, but I can't quite place what it is. It's something important, but I can't remember what it is. My brain is still fuzzy, I reason, from sleep. Whatever it was that I need to remember, it'll come to me. 

I walk over to where my suit lay, discarded, and pull it on. The tight fabric grips onto my skin, and I pause to remove my chronal accelerator before pulling it over the area where the object would usually rest. There's a moment of dizziness, but nothing like....like what? My brows furrow as I stand there with the fabric still bunched in my hands. Like what? At the moment, I can't remember, but brush that fact off. Can't stand here and linger on some stupid memory that I can't even summon up.

I've got a world to save.


	2. A Touch of Red

The streets of London were dotted with rain-created puddles, still being added to by the tiny droplets that spilled out of the sky in a near-curtain. The sound of the rain muffled everything else, including the horns of the cars, and the dull roars that continuously emanated from the crowds that walked the sidewalks. The lights were even dimmed somewhat by the water that obfuscated them, and I was forced to move slower than usual. On rooftops, the rain only made the already slick surfaces dangerous.

Now, I wasn't even moving though, instead, I crouched on the edge of a rooftop. My head was cocked to the side as my gaze swept over the crowd beneath me, looking for anything suspicious. My finger traced the body of my pulse pistol, going over the sleek,smooth body absentmindedly. My goggles hung from my neck, having been glazed over by rain to the point where I thought it would be dangerous to continue wearing them. My hair was slicked down to my head, some stray strands falling into my eyes. The rain itself soaked into my suit, through my jacket, amplifying the chill that already permeated the air.

"Fucking hell." I muttered to myself, standing up as I slipped my pistols into their holsters. I needed to move, to force some heat into my body at the very least. A faint growl from my stomach reminded me that I needed to eat as well. That, combined with the way that my eyes yearned to close, reminded me that I was still human, no matter how much I played hero.

I wanted to move, get some food, some sleep, but there was the ever present thought in the back of my head that told me someone was going to get hurt the moment I left my perch. Someone else could be attacked on the other side of the city, sure, but I had the police on radio for that. I was more concerned that I would leave this area, and the moment I was too far someone would come in and start shooting, or rob somebody, something that I could have prevented.

Fortunately, it seemed like I wouldn't have to worry about that, because trouble walked right into my vision. My eyes locked on a man walking into the crowd. He didn't seem to stand out particularly, save for the fact that he wore all black, had his hood up, and had his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. These, along with the way that he continuously looked around, including over his shoulder, were the telltale signs of someone about to cause trouble.

From the man, I started to look for anybody that he might target, probably for a theft, or pickpocketing. Something that I really shouldn't worry myself with, but it would be entertainment, and a way to warm up. After a minute of scanning the crowd, my eyes fell on a potential target, rather, targets. 

A red headed woman and what appeared to be her daughter walked alone, directly in the direction that the suspicious man was heading. The little girl had drawn her mother's attention, pointing to some display or another in the front window of a store. The woman had turned, exposing her back, and her purse, to the man whose eyes were now locked on the two of them. I leant forward, fingers curling around the stone of the edge of the roof, ready to leap the moment that the man committed the crime itself. 

He crossed the street, his eyes never leaving the woman as he approached, hands still buried deep within the recesses of his pockets. He reached out, and the moment that his grip closed around the purse, I was on the ground, making my way over as quick as I could. I watched as he bolted, streaking down the sidewalk and shoving people out of his way as he went. I followed his path, calling apologies to those that had been knocked over by the criminal, but hadn't been given enough time to get up before I had come thundering through in hot pursuit. 

In the moment, the man glanced back. His eyes landed on me, and I mustered a smirk as I pushed myself to go faster, feet smacking loudly against the rain-soaked pavement as I gave chase. This guy wasn't about to make it an easy capture, though. He weaved in and out of crowds, pushing people into my way in an effort to slow me down, but I kept right up with him as my accelerator charged to the point where I could just blink in front of him.

No such luck. The moment that my blink was up, the guy ducked into an alleyway, meaning that I blinked ahead to where he should have been, instead missing him completely. I skidded on the ground for a moment, cursed, and then kicked up fallen water as I clambered to my feet before turning down the same alleyway. Fortunately, Lady Luck seemed to have offered me somewhat of a break, because the alley was a dead end. Good job for cocking up your blink Lena, it seemed to say, have a free capture. 

The man I had been chasing turned to face me, and I stalked forward, withdrawing one of my pulse pistols as I went. "Right, hand over the bag." I commanded as I approached. The man looked like he was going to bolt, but then just threw the bag down. Guess he didn't feel like the purse was worth getting shot over, not that I would have shot him, but he didn't know that. I walked forward, and quickly brought the man to the ground before securing his hands with zip ties, tying him to a pipe that protruded from the wall before calling the police. 

With that done, I zipped away, bag now in hand, to find the woman that this bag had been stolen from. It was a quick trip back to the square that the woman and her daughter had been standing in, and I found them in front of the same store, talking to a police officer. I approached, and tapped the woman on the shoulder. She turned, and cocked a brow at me, before her eyes fell on the purse in my hand. Her brows eyes lit up, and a smile split her features.

"Oh, thank you love." She said, and slung the purse over her shoulder. "How can I repay you?" I glanced up from where my gaze had momentarily fallen to the floor, and a smile split my features. 

"No need to repay me, ma'am, it's just what we heroes do." I repeated the line that I had recited hundreds of times already, before putting my hands in the pockets of my jacket. The woman just shook her head, brown eyes still shining with appreciation. 

"I could get you some food, you look famished." Before I could say anything, the woman insisted that I allow her to buy me something to eat, especially since I had just saved her a whole mess of trouble. I wanted to say no, but then the little girl next to the woman chimed in, insisting that I should eat with them. A curious glance in the redhead's direction revealed that she was smiling, and she explained that her daughter had heard a lot about me.

"You're my hero." The girl agreed, and I couldn't help but smile. When it came to kids, I really didn't know how to say no. So, I sighed, and told the woman that I would love to join her and her daughter for food.

"Oh, I'm Tracer, by the way, but you can call me Lena." I introduced myself as I walked next to the mother and daughter, the mother holding an umbrella over both her and her daughter as the rain continued to dot the ground. 

"Well, it's nice to meet you Lena, this is my daughter, Alice." The woman gestured to the young girl who walked beside her, holding her hand. The little girl smiled, said hello to acknowledge the introduction, and then her mother introduced herself. "I'm Emily."


	3. Downtime

"So, what do you do when you aren't playing hero?" My brows shot up along with my gaze, snapping to where Emily sat across from me. I swallowed the mouthful of food that I had been chewing on moments ago, and adjusted my goggles on my head before speaking.

"Well, uh, I mostly kind of just do the hero thing." I responded awkwardly, having never mulled over that question before. One of the many disadvantages of living an antisocial lifestyle, I guess, not many people asked you questions. "When I'm not doing my job, I'm usually sleeping....or eating." I took a bite of the pizza I had ordered to accentuate my point.

"You don't like to listen to music?" Alice asked, the brunette girl poking out of seemingly nowhere, eyes alight with joy as she spoke to me, leaning against the booth next to me. "Or drawing? Or anything?" I chuckled, and Emily scolded her daughter, calling her back over to the other side of the table with a stern tone.

"Oh, she's alright, love." I assured the redhead before turning back to her daughter. "I like a lot of things, but I just don't have much time; I have to be a hero." Alice cocked her head to the side, pale blue eyes meeting my own before she sat back on the booth's seat. She looked like she was contemplating something, but what a five year old could be pondering so heavily upon, I had no clue. 

"Do you like The Beatles?" She inquired, and I chuckled. I put the slice of pizza I had been holding back on the plate, and crossed my arms over my chest as I cast a sidelong-smile in the young girl's direction.

"Now, how did you know that?" I questioned her in return, as though they weren't one of the most famous bands of all time. She giggled, and moved to sit cross-legged on the seat in front of me. "You must be readin' my mind." Again, the little girl giggled, and shook her head, which sent the short curtain of her chestnut hair around her face.

"My mom and I listen to the Beatles all the time." Alice explained, rocking back and forth on the seat as she spoke, holding on to her heels for stability. "They're really good." I couldn't help but smile wider at her explanation. I pictured Emily and her daughter sitting in front of a record player, listening to the classic rock band; Emily seemed like the type to listen to vinyl.

"That so?" I asked, glancing in Emily's direction. "Well, your mum has a great taste in music." I complimented, and Emily offered up a grin similar to her daughter's. Just moments ago, I had wondered about what Alice had inherited from her mother, but now I realized that their smiles were identical, dazzling. "What's your favorite song by them?" I asked Alice now, turning my attention back to the child who had been so engrossed with me moments ago.

Alice hesitated on that question for a moment, her head tilting to the side and her eyes seeming to search the ceiling of the back-alley cafe for an answer. "I like Yesterday." She finally answered, and my brows cocked up, my gaze briefly darting to Emily before returning to her daughter.

"Yea?" I asked, curious as to why this little girl liked one of their sadder songs. Maybe she had lost someone?

"Yea," she responded, before standing up so that she was now near the same height as me. "What's your favorite song?" She asked in response to my own question before shaking her head. "No, wait, let me guess." I smirked, and leant back in the booth, crossing one leg over the other as I waited for her guess. "Is it....Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds?" The young girl stumbled over the last word, but I got the gist of what she was saying. And I was stunned.

"Actually...yea." I nodded, as though affirming that fact with myself. That is my favorite song, I told myself, but how did this kid know it? I shot a glance her way, but the little girl betrayed no indication as to how she knew my favorite song. I decided to brush it off, I was just overthinking a coincidence, I decided, a lucky guess. "What's your favorite song?" I addressed Emily now, putting my hand on the table as I spoke.

"Yesterday." She responded without hesitation, before biting her lip and looking down into the cup that had been set in front of her minutes after we had taken our seat. I glanced from her, to Alice, and back again. These two had definitely lost someone. I didn't want to linger on that though, instead moving the conversation along hurriedly. 

"So, what do you do?" I asked Emily. "You know what I do, but I want to know how you spend your time." The redhead glanced up from her cup, and a hint of a smile broke her suddenly somber facade, before she pushed her cup to the side.

"I'm a pilot." She explained, putting both arms on the table now, before leaning forward. "Commercial airlines, some cargo transport, wherever I'm needed." Again, I couldn't help but feel that this was all just a little too coincidental.

"You do any flying for the military?" I asked, reclining back in the booth, swinging an arm across the back. Emily chuckled at the question, and shook her head.

"Nah, I was too short for the military, didn't have the best of health either." She took a drink from her cup, sipping on the steaming beverage she had ordered nearly an hour ago. "Besides, I figured out I was pregnant with Alice like, right after I thought about applying, so, it just wasn't meant to be." She didn't sound bitter about the fact, but I wasn't about to judge.

"Well, that's a shame, I mean-" I was cut off by the sound of a police report blaring in my ear, due to my communicator behind hooked up to a police radio. I sighed, and cast a smile at Emily. "Sort to cut this short, but I've got to go play hero." Before she responded, I darted out of the booth, and out the door, calling a thank you over my shoulder as I went.


End file.
